metal heath will drive you mad

When I was a kid, I was fascinated by those old guys who roamed the beach with metal detectors. On family trips to Atlantic City, I could always count on a few things. My parents would take my brother and me to the beach. My dad would gingerly wade into the ocean while wearing his sunglasses, indicating that he had no intention of putting his head anywhere near the water. Then he would invariably disappear from the beach, sneaking off to watch the slick-talking hucksters set up on the Boardwalk demonstrating those "handy-dandy" vegetable peelers/cutters that the likelihood of his purchasing one were about as good as his putting his head in the ocean water.

We could always rely on my mom buying an ice cream treat from one of those borderline-homeless guys who toted their frozen wares in a dented cooler, layered alternately with rock-hard dairy products on a stick and dangerous, but tempting, dry ice. We could also be sure that we'd see at least one old guy (but there were usually more) in torn shorts and a faded, threadbare t-shirt following his extended metal detector around like a handler displaying a prize-winning show dog. We would often see these mysterious figures in the early morning hours on the infrequent occasion that we were renting bicycles to ride on the Boardwalk. (Always with my mom. Never my dad). As the sun was slowly rising over the ocean, the silhouettes of these guys wandered intently in the freshly-combed sand, a pair of large headphones enveloping their heads under a ratty, but concealing straw hat. They'd listen closely for little "beeps" or "boops" indicating the presence of some hidden metallic treasure just below the sandy surface — or twenty feet below the sandy surface. It was a crap shoot.

Seeing these treasure seekers was a true sign that summer had arrived. Just like popping a salt water taffy in your mouth or flicking a wooden ball down a Skee-Ball alley, an unkept old guy on the beach with a metal detector let you know that school was out, surf was up and summer had begun. 

Did any of these determined fellows ever find anything of any real value? I'm not sure. Obviously, they did have the funds with which to purchase a metal detector. Perhaps they were just digging in a random spot on the beach and they discovered a long-forgotten pirate chest... or a wallet stuffed with twenties. Whatever the case, they were able to purchase a much-needed piece of equipment to assist in their quest for additional wealth. I surmise, however, that since they are still scouring the beaches, they are not yet financially sound and must continue their search in order to make ends meet. Or maybe greed is their motivation

The absurdity of their quest became even funnier to me as I got older. In 1991, children's network Nickelodeon broadcast a thirty-minute special that eventually became a series called The Adventures of Pete & Pete. It chronicled the quirky exploits of one Pete Wrigley and his little brother, also named Pete. This special focused on the Wrigley brothers encounter and subsequent search for their friend, Mr. Tastee, the local ice cream truck driver. Along the way, they visit a beach, where, with the aid of his trusty metal detector, the senior Mr. Wrigley finds a 1978 Cutlass Supreme buried in the sand. My son and I roared with laughter as the Petes helped Dad unearth the car and drive home in it. (That's right! It was buried with a full tank of gas!) I was immediately reminded of those optimistic old men on the Atlantic City Beach, wishing for a similar reward.

Just a few days ago, Mrs. Pincus and I were circling the block on our daily afternoon walk, when I spotted a familiar figure in nearby High School Park. Fifty or so feet into a large expanse of neatly-trimmed grass, in the shadow of some landscaped shade trees, there was an older man in ragged pants, faded t-shirt and straw hat methodically ambling about with a metal detector at arm's length. I suppose April is too soon for the beach, so perhaps he was keeping his finding skills sharp until that time when he could trade his sneakers for sandals and his ragged pants for ragged shorts.

There are coins or jewelry waiting to be found. Maybe even a Cutlass Supreme. 

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